


Save The Best For Last

by wintermute



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Feelstide 2013, First Time, Fluff, Fuzzy socks, Get Together, M/M, Pheels, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintermute/pseuds/wintermute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When his buzzer went off earlier, Phil hadn’t been expecting to hear Clint’s voice on the other end. In fact, he hadn’t expect to hear from Clint at all. Phil had been ready to admit that despite all of the things that had happened and the tension growing between them so tangible he could cut with a knife, he’d lost Clint after all.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Instead, he was pushing Clint flush against the closest wall kissing him and being kissed back like their lives depended on it.</i>
</p><p>In which Clint is the president of the super seekrit SHIELD Stitch ’n Bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save The Best For Last

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I was trying to name the damn fic and I was like, what about “Save the Best for Last”? And then I was like, isn’t there a song by that name? So I looked it up and let’s just say, my plot and that song? Pure coincidence. And now that song’s in my head and I can’t get rid of it. *headdesk*
> 
> Thanks to Kisleth and totalnerdatheart for their help looking this over <333
> 
> Prompt: Warm, fuzzy socks are the secret to a perfect holiday season.

It started with a pair of mittens.

Phil walked into the mess one morning to Sitwell’s unusually gleeful voice.

Christmas was just over a week away, and while SHIELD continued to operate through the holiday season, they were winding down to a skeleton crew for the next two weeks. Phil himself was scheduled to be offsite over Christmas for the first time in years. It was really too bad that he couldn’t schedule enough days off to visit his sister’s family out west, but a couple of days of sitting at home catching up on TV would be just as nice.

If only he had someone to spend it with. Phil shook his head, banishing those thoughts from his mind. It was pointless to think about it when he’d been the one who made the wrong call.

“Oh sweet! This is awesome,” Sitwell exclaimed after digging through the small gift box. He held up his present towards Phil when he made his way over to where Sitwell and Clint had been sitting. “Hey Coulson, look what Barton got me?”

Clint had given Sitwell a pair of mittens. The yarn was soft with a slight sheen, a muted heather grey that Phil knew would go perfectly with the wool coat Sitwell usually wore in the winter. Phil couldn’t help running his fingers over the silky soft surface of the simple mittens over and over. Sitwell had been complaining to Phil for a couple of weeks about losing one of his winter gloves, and the little gift had had the perfect timing. There was no tag on them, no indication of where they were purchased or who they were from. If anything, they looked handmade.

“Did you make these?” Phil couldn’t help asking, and Clint nodded. “They’re really nice.”

Clint shrugged. “It’s pretty simple to make.”

“You know he’s been bitching about his gloves for weeks.”

“I have not—” Sitwell sputtered.

“Kind of why I decided to make him a pair for Christmas,” Clint said, cutting Sitwell off and grinning at his scowl.

“Didn’t know you knit,” Phil asked curiously.

“I took it up recently.” Clint shrugged. “I got bored staring at the walls, and Sandra from the kitchen took pity on me and taught me how.”

Phil was careful not to wince at Clint’s words. He’d gotten the report from Fury about the lockdown and the things they had Clint go through to make sure Loki was really out of his head. By the way Clint had looked when he was first told that Phil was alive, Clint hadn’t had an easy time even after he was cleared of all wrong doing.

It was one of those things that Phil truly regretted about dying, even though he’d gladly do it all over again if it meant they got Clint back.

If only Clint would talk to him about it. Phil sighed internally.

This set the pattern for the next few days. Phil caught Clint giving Natasha a large bundle which turned out to be a red scarf that matched the colour of her hair just right. She’d cracked one of her rare smiles at Clint before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

The rest of the team all got their own hand made presents from Clint, even Pepper and Darcy, who’d struck up a friendship with Clint after New Mexico.

Phil kept telling himself he wasn’t jealous that everyone but him received gifts from Clint. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

 

~*~

 

It was Christmas Eve; the air was cold, enough that standing outside for more than a few minutes was uncomfortable even for those who were used to the cold. The snow was coming down in big, fat flurries, not really falling, but drifting in the slight breeze until they gently fluttered to the ground where half a foot of snow had already accumulated. Good thing someone had shoveled the sidewalk earlier in the day.

It would’ve looked really pretty if Clint had been indoors and warm. He probably would’ve appreciated it more.

He’d been standing in front of this particular apartment building for a good twenty minutes. He couldn’t make up his mind about hitting the buzzer. Phil was up there on the top floor, and all he had to do was press the button. He’d done this dozens of times before when Phil invited him over for pizza and beer, but for some reason, he just couldn’t make himself do it this time. He looked up from his spot on the sidewalk, watching as Phil’s shadow move about the brightly lit living room, the silhouette of a tree peeking out from one of the windows. He knew that Phil was alone; he knew that Phil, despite having family out west, only had a few days off so he was staying in. He knew that he should just bite the bullet and do it, which was what he’d been telling himself for the past fifteen minutes, but every time he moved towards the front steps he hesitated.

The problem was that Clint knew exactly why he was hesitating—he, Clint Barton, archer extraordinaire, full-time Avenger and SHIELD agent, was nervous.

He was right to be nervous, of course. He knew exactly why he was here and what would happen—or at least, what he had hoped would happen—when he finally knocked on Phil’s door. It was going to change things, and it scared the crap out of Clint.

The thing was, there’d always been something between the two of them, simmering low just beneath the surface. It was the way they instinctively knew where each other were when they were facing down their enemies. It was in every in-joke Phil made, every comeback Clint had and every bit of banter over the comms. It was pizzas and beers and basketball games on Phil’s couch, and arms and shoulders that held each other through the worst of their missions.

The thing was, Phil was his friend. His best friend (Nat didn’t count because she was practically family), and Clint was scared shitless of losing his best friend.

Whatever it was that was growing between them had only gotten stronger, more tangible, since Phil came back from being dead. It’d taken them the better part of the year to move past what Loki had done to them both, and they both knew that the something had changed, shifted, became more than it was before. All he had to do was reach out and grab it. Clint would be lying if he said he didn’t want it, whatever it was that was growing between he and Phil. He could deny it all he wanted, but the truth was that he’d wanted it for a long time. He was just too chicken shit to admit that he was in love with his best friend, and too scared that he would lose Phil if he ever said anything.

A woman rounded the corner and nearly bumped into him, the dog on the end of the leash in her hand barked and growled a few times at him before the woman dragged it away. She gave him an odd look before she left.

He was going to have to make a decision soon before someone decided that he was too creepy and called the cops. Hawkeye arrested on the streets of New York for being a creeper. That’d make one hell of a headline, wouldn’t it? Clint could already hear Fury’s angry ranting.

Biting the bullet, Clint took a deep breath and bounded up the front steps of the building and pressed the buzzer to Phil’s apartment before he could talk himself out of it again.

“Hello?” Phil’s voice was tinny through the speaker. “Who is it?”

“It’s—” Clint paused, swallowing down the nerves lodging itself in his throat. “It’s me.”

“Clint?”

“Yeah.” Clint was suddenly unsure. “If it’s a bad time I can go—”

“No!” Phil replied quickly, as if afraid of Clint leaving. He must be imagining it. “Uh, no, you don’t have to go. Come on up, please.”

The door buzzed, and Clint pulled it open, and only hesitated for a second before stepping into the foyer. He stomped his boots on the mats to shake off the snow before venturing further inside.

Phil was waiting for him at the door when he bounded up the last flight of stairs. He was dressed down, in a light grey t-shirt underneath a dark blue v-neck sweater and well-worn denim, looking soft around the edges, the way only a few people had the privilege of ever seeing. Clint felt a little pride welling up at the thought of being the select few that got to see the man behind the Agent Coulson mask.

“Hi,” Phil greeted with a small smile when Clint stepped in front of him.

“Hi.” Clint couldn’t help smiling back as he stared at Phil’s face and the way the smile lit up his soft blue eyes.

“Would… would you like to come in?” Phil stepped aside, an arm extended in invitation.

Clint clenched his fingers around the wrapped package in his hand. He’d almost forgotten about it.

“Sure,” he said. “Thanks.” Phil just shook his head and led them both to the living room.

“You want a beer? I was just about to order Chinese,” Phil said as he continued on towards the kitchen and the fridge. “Make yourself at home.”

“Uh…” Clint rubbed at his neck. “I was just gonna drop this off for you.”

Phil pulled his head out of the fridge, looking at Clint curiously before moving back towards Clint. He took the small, bright paper-wrapped parcel from Clint’s fingers, turning it in his hand as he inspected it, before smiling up at Clint.

“For me?” Phil asked, as though he hadn’t expected a present.

“Yeah…” Clint looked to the side to hide his own smile while fighting the rising blush. “Thought I’d save the best for last.”

Clint suddenly found himself wrapped up tightly in a pair of strong arms, his face mashed against Phil’s strong chest behind the sweater. The sweater was as soft as Clint had imagined. He ran his hands up Phil’s side to his back, holding on tightly as he breathed in deeply and let the familiar scent of Phil’s aftershave fill his senses.

He never wanted to let go.

“Thank you,” Phil whispered against his ear when he loosened his hold on Clint, and Clint had to fight the urge to blush.

“Do you want to open it?” He asked instead. Phil nodded and began tearing into the wrapping paper like a child.

The gasp and grin as Phil stared at his presents were doing things to Clint’s insides, making him dizzy with affection.

“It’s nothing fancy or anything. You mentioned that your feet get cold sometimes after the whole… you know,” Clint waved a finger against his own chest. “It’s an alpaca-silk blend, a little fuzzy but super warm. Should keep your toes war—”

Clint never got the chance to finish that sentence, because he was being pushed up against the nearest wall, with Phil’s lips on his, swallowing his words with a kiss.

 

~*~

 

When his buzzer went off earlier, Phil hadn’t been expecting to hear Clint’s voice on the other end. In fact, he hadn’t expect to hear from Clint at all.

Phil had been ready to admit that despite all of the things that had happened and the tension growing between them so tangible he could cut with a knife, he’d lost Clint after all. Instead, Clint was here, in his apartment, and he was pushing Clint flush against the closest wall kissing him and being kissed back like their lives depended on it.

By the time he managed to pull himself away, just a bit, they were both flushed and panting. Clint was staring at him like he couldn’t believe this was happening, and Phil couldn’t resist diving back in for a gentler, less frantic press of lips against kiss-swollen lips.

“Fuck,” Phil whispered hoarsely when they part the second time.

“Later,” Clint’s fingers found their way to the front of Phil sweater, pulling him close so their bodies were flush from knees to chest.

“You’re incorrigible.” Phil chuckled softly and let his eyes fall shut as he leaned against Clint, just enjoying the closeness, breathing him in, feeling the way Clint just melted against him. He grinned against Clint’s neck as Clint wound his arms around Phil’s waist.

“Shut up,” Clint laughed too, jostling Phil’s head as his shoulders shook. “You love it, admit it.”

“Yes, I do,” Phil pulled back just a little so he could wrap his hands around Clint’s face, a little breathless as he said, “How are you real? You’re here and kissing me and you gave me fuzzy socks. How are you even real?”

“I can pinch you if you want,” Clint just grinned, and Phil couldn’t resist kissing him again.

They would’ve probably stayed just like that for the rest of the evening if Phil’s stomach hadn’t decided that it’d had enough and grumbled loudly. They both cracked up laughing, and Phil let himself be led towards the kitchen counter where his stack of take-out menus lived.

After dinner (Chinese, because those were the only places that would be open), they ended up on the couch, sitting side by side and snuggled close. There was something on TV but neither of them were paying attention to it. Phil had pulled on one pair of the socks, wiggling his toes in deep, deep content.

“They are amazing,” Phil said, twisting his head to smile at Clint. “Thank you.”

Clint just shrugged. “I didn’t know what to get you, for the longest time. And then Agnes suggested that I make something for you. Something you can really use, so I thought, socks. Something to keep you warm.”

“Agnes? From Accounting?”

“Yeah,” Clint nodded, smiling. “She and Sandra helped me get the Stitch ’n Bitch up and running by sending out emails to everyone they knew that might want to join.”

Phil would’ve laughed if it were anyone else, but as it were, he was grinning like a madman as he pulled Clint into yet another kiss. God, he could do this forever.

“I’m so glad you’re here, right now,” Phil said as he pulled back. “I thought you were still mad at me for, you know,” he swallowed, “dying and all that.”

“What? No. I was…” Phil watched as Clint worried his bottom lip. “I was just… scared. I guess.”

“Scared?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah. I was so glad you were alive I couldn’t even begin to be mad at you about it. Okay, maybe a little for going up against an alien god by yourself, but no, I wasn’t mad at you. After you came back, I wanted to tell you how I felt—still feel. It’s like, second chances and all that, right? But I was so scared that you didn’t feel the same way, that you’d say thanks but no thanks. You’re my best friend, Phil. Aside from Tasha—she’s practically like my sister so that’d be so weird—you’re the only other person who knows me for who I am.” Clint watched him from under his lashes. “I was afraid to ruin our friendship. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“God, Clint!” Phil couldn’t resist pulling Clint close, just to know that he was there, that all of this was real. “I’ve been in love with you for years! I was happy with just being your friend, because you never said anything or showed any interest. And then when you didn’t come around like you used to after I came back, I thought I’d already lost you…”

“You’ll never lose me, you idiot.” Clint snuggled close, and the way he was nuzzling the neckline of Phil’s shirt was sending an excited shiver down Phil’s spine. “I love you too.”

Phil reached a hand out to caress Clint’s face, palming his jaw as their gazes met. Clint smiled, and turned his head just a bit and kissed Phil’s palm before reaching up to kiss Phil properly. The kiss started slow, just a gentle press of lips, but soon it wasn’t enough. Phil’s lips parted and Clint licked his way inside, chasing after Phil’s tongue with his own. Phil moaned as Clint trailed kisses down Phil’s jaw to his neck, nipping at the delicate skin there. He slid his arms around Clint’s waist, his fingers sneaking under Clint’s shirt for smooth, warm skin, following the ridges of his spine up to his broad back, to the muscles subtly shifting underneath.

Clint’s hands found their way under Phil’s shirt too, his fingers tangled with the smattering of hair on Phil’s chest, scratching softly.

Phil slid down so he was slouching on his couch, and pulled Clint towards him. Clint followed easily, straddling Phil’s thighs as Phil held him steady by his waist.

“Hey,” Clint said softly, an easy smile playing at the corners of his mouth before leaning down to kiss Phil on the lips. Phil hummed appreciatively.

“You have no idea how often I thought about you like this,” Phil muttered as he fixed his lips over Clint’s stubbled jaw, kissing and licking his way to the shell of Clint’s left ear. His hands were busy hitching it up Clint’s shirt and touching the smooth skin underneath.

Clint moaned, his hips working a slow grind against Phil’s, creating just enough friction to make them both hot and wanting. “Not nearly as much as I though about you like this. Fuck, Phil. I want you.”

“Mmm, baby.” Phil backed away just a bit and slid his hands up, pulling Clint’s shirt off. His eyes darted between Clint’s face and his flawless body, completely mesmerized. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Clint smirked. “I want to see you.”

Phil groaned. “God. The things I want to do to you.”

Clint moved between Phil’s thighs and slid down to kneel on the ground. He busied himself stripping off Phil’s sweater and hiking up Phil’s t-shirt, peppering Phil’s abs with soft, nipping kisses. “Tell me, Phil?”

“Fuck…” Phil arched his head back, his eyes rolling back when Clint found a particular sensitive spot right underneath his right nipple. “I want to lay you out on my bed, spend hours working on you, teasing your ass with my fingers until you’re pliant and open…”

Clint moaned loudly, moving lower so he could undo Phil’s pants. He drew the zipper down slowly, and nuzzled at Phil’s cloth-covered erection. Phil let out a soft gasp when Clint began licking at his cock through his boxer-briefs. Phil looked down to find Clint staring at him, an eyebrow cocked as if telling him to continue. Phil swallowed.

“I want you open and ready for me so that when I sink my cock into you, all you can feel me inside you, stretching you but not hurting at all. I want to fold you in half and fuck into your tight hole slow and languid before I flip you over and pound into you hard and fast… Jesus fuck!” Phil cried out as Clint drew him out from his shorts and began sucking hard at the flared tip. He wanted Clint to open his lips wide so he could fuck into the hot, wet cavern of Clint’s mouth until he came screaming. “I want to take you to the edge and keep you there for hours until you’re coming on just the way my cock is drilling you and bringing you pleasure. I want you to come so hard that you forget your own name—ahh!”

Phil couldn’t help reaching down to sink his fingers into Clint’s hair, gripping just tight enough to sting. Clint moaned appreciatively as he worked on Phil’s cock, his head bobbing up and down obediently. Phil’s chest heaved and he gripped Clint’s hair hard to force his head up. This was too good; he was going to come like a fifteen year old on a first date if Clint didn’t stop. It was a silly notion, but Phil wanted Clint to come at the same time he did.

“Up here,” Phil said, pulling at Clint to straddle his thighs once again. “I want to touch you.”

Clint groaned as he palmed at his cock through his jeans, pressing just hard enough to stop himself from going off. “Shit, Phil. I’m getting close. Haven’t been like this since I was a teenager. Fuck!”

Phil would agree, but he was too busy undoing Clint’s jeans. He licked into Clint’s mouth when he leaned in, swallowing Clint’s breathy moans as he wrapped his fingers around him. Clint’s cock was slick, drenched in precum that made it easy for Phil to slide his hand up and down along the thick length. Clint reached down and wrapped a hand around Phil, and gave him as good as he got.

Clint buried his face into Phil’s neck again, nipping at the skin, sucking what was sure to be some epic love bites into the skin. Phil could hear the whimpers and soft grunts as Clint snapped his hips into Phil’s grip.

It didn’t take them long to bring each other off, they were both so close to the edge. Clint came gasping Phil’s name, exploding in Phil’s hand, and Phil followed him right off the edge, grunting out his orgasm as he spilled thick ropes of cum all over his own belly. Clint slumped against him, shaking slightly from his climax, but otherwise pliant like a large and particularly affectionate cat while Phil stroked up and down his back in gentle circles.

“That was…” Phil tried to say, but found his brain not quite coherent.

“Yeah.”

“Not moving too fast?”

“Fuck, Phil. We’ve known each other for how long?” Clint asked, exasperatedly, as he gnawed playfully at Phil’s shoulder. Okay, an affectionate but slightly prickly cat.

“Okay. Just making sure.” Phil sighed, content and happy, and pecked a kiss to Clint’s sweaty temple. It was then that he noticed the time. “Huh. It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah?” Phil could feel Clint grin against his shoulder. “Best Christmas present ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me here: http://thisiswintermute.tumblr.com/


End file.
